


A Single Step Into the Dark

by Lypreila



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Background story, Bonding, But only a little, Clan Lavellan - Freeform, Ethin - Freeform, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Implied abuse, Inquisitor back story, Mages, Magisters, Original Character(s), Rangers, She's young, Slavery, Solavellan, Tal'ren - Freeform, Wycombe, back story, eventual Solavellan, lavellan - Freeform, no ships, relationship building, rogues - Freeform, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 12:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7507753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lypreila/pseuds/Lypreila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Min Lavellan ran.  From everything she knew, towards an uncertain future with elves she'd only heard of in stories.  Told to speak only to the Keeper of clan Lavellan, she struggles against hunger and cold to reach the Dalish. </p>
<p>(The story of how Inquisitor Numin Lavellan came to be raised by her clan, and how she became the brash, adventurous person she is today.  OC's, Found Families, and the origin of the Inquisitor. Backstory building towards eventual Solavellan.  I suck at summaries ^_^)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Single Step Into the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> This is the backstory of my Inquisitor Min Lavellan, and how she fled from her Tevinter master to find the Dalish she'd been told stories of. Slavery mention, possible triggers for mentions of experimentation upon mage slaves. The little bit of Elvish I use is translated at the end. Kudos are wonderful and Comments make me so happy! Enjoy!

The brisk wind of a Wycombe autumn moved through the forest, slipping through the holes in Numin’s tattered shirt. The elf gave a small shiver, vigorously rubbing her hands up and down her arms in an attempt to generate some warmth. Mornings were always the worst, and though she couldn‘t tell exactly where the sun was through the thick canopy overhead, her stomach was insisting that it was morning. Where once she would’ve had food -plain but nutritious- brought to her, now she scrounged through her small, pilfered bag to find the last of the rolls she’d absconded with, as hard as the rock that had pressed into her side all night. 

Taking a small nibble of the unappetizing fare, Numin cast about her with midnight blue eyes, looking for signs that she might be coming any closer to her goal. Seeing none, the eyes dropped, and a dark bird looked up at the deep sigh that followed. Had she done the right thing, leaving Magister Claudio? Perhaps. Right or wrong, she’d been unable to resist falling under the sway of the stocky elf who’d come so often to speak with her in her cell. 

She hadn’t known Nola then, but she was expected to be unfailingly polite to any guest of her Master, even one that had found her way into the deepest levels of Claudio‘s study - a space forbidden to all but him and a select few others. The woman’s visits had cheered long days, so when Nola had asked if she’d like to hear a story about the last free elves in Thedas, her eagerness had been only a little derived from the desire to be polite and please her Master. 

Many months and too few visits later, Nola had asked her the question that would change her life. 

“Would you like to live with them, da’len? Would you like to go to the Dalish to stay?” 

She’d been painfully unsure of how she could answer. The experiments were becoming more painful, leaving gaping holes in her memory, causing Claudio to treat her less like the valuable possession that she’d been once. Now she was treated (so she was told by others, the house slaves and Claudio‘s own son Plinius,) like a piece of used furniture, carelessly battered and hidden away from guests, where once she would‘ve been groomed and showed off with pride. The desire was there, to be more, but she remembered little of life outside the confines of her Master’s domain, even before they’d been transferred to Wycombe. The girl was faintly surprised to hear the answer she gave. 

And that had been it. A month later Nola had led her through the house, one of the Master’s parties in full swing, and helped her to steal some less obvious clothing and a few provisions. Then she had been told what she needed to know to find a nearby clan. 

“Deshanna of clan Lavellan, da’len. That is who you ask for. Just walk south. They will see you before you see them. Just walk south at night, and try to remember what I told you. You must only speak to Keeper Deshanna of why you’ve come. Tell anyone else only that you must speak to the keeper. Now RUN.” 

Numin groaned. She should’ve known better when Nola had said she wasn’t going to come with her. Now she was stuck here - in the middle of an old growth forest - with no more food, and no way to return to her Master. Not that she was at all sure that she would, or could. With no more complaint, and no other choice, she rose, ignoring the way her stomach felt hollow, ignoring the biting air. She tucked her nearly empty sack into her belt, and sighed. Focused on the ground in front of her, the young girl began to march forward. 

*******

Around midday Tal’ren of clan Lavellan paused in his solitary trek, head cocked to the side as though listening for something. The middle aged elf turned sharply to his left at the sound of a high, thin bird call and pulled one hand from his bow, holding it aloft in front of him. A smile pulled at his grizzled face when a raven dropped from the forest canopy to land on his gauntlet clad wrist. The bird hopped nervously, back and forth along his arm, till Ren bent his head down to it. More bird chatter filled his ear, as clear to him as though the animal were speaking Common or Elvhan. The bird ended its musical tirade with a quick, light peck at Ren’s thin ear, then took wing again, disappearing almost instantly against the muted background of the trees. 

Forty short minutes later Ren was stalking his prey on silent feet, skillfully avoiding the dead leaves that littered the moss carpeting the ground. The girl was short, and looked young - perhaps all of 13 summers behind her. Black hair marred on either side with a thick streak of white was drawn into tight plaits at either side of her head. The white streaks of hair wound through each braid like spider webs, and the clothing she wore was obviously made in some Shem city, a tunic drawn tight with a belt and thin leggings. Two weeks ago it might have kept her warm but the days had turned chill fast, and now they would let more cold air in than they kept out. She stumbled at every step - even at his distance he could hear it when her stomach growled with hunger. Another stumble and she fell to her knees. 

Ren relaxed the pull on his bow string and took in the sight. She was tired, obviously hungry, and merely sat there while the birds and chipmunks flitted and capered around her, unmindful. The elf had to hold back a shocked grunt when his raven friend hopped down in front of her, preening its feathers and cocking its head to one side curiously. That particular bird never approached anyone, save Ren himself. He silently mouthed a string of curses. 

The raven was now hopping back and forth, from side to side, and Ren carefully advanced, suddenly curious to see her reaction. He was well rewarded when a brilliant smile broke through her passive exterior, almond shaped eyes that appeared to be a deep blue going wide with amazement. A short bark of laughter escaped the child, sounding hoarse and unused. Ren’s heart softened just a hair at the coarse but joyful sound. What could he really do, just ignore this lost waif on the border of their hunting grounds? No, despite the need for vigilance, he could do no such thing. 

“All good things in their time” he thought to himself. “First, let’s see what she does.” 

A smooth flurry of motion had him standing proudly in the open, bow pulled to its full draw and aimed at the head of one very shocked elven girl. 

*************

Numin had been enjoying the little bird’s show, welcoming the distraction from the biting cold and her own hollow insides. The sharp crack of a twig made her look up, and she almost wished that she hadn’t. An older elf stood there, clad in tight fitting leather armor, fur wrapped around his shins and gauntlets, barefoot. The wind whipped strands of auburn hair, twined through with feathers and braids, about his tanned face, a face set in a hardened scowl. His eyes were dark and penetrating, demanding an answer to a question not yet asked. In her malnourished state Min had time to notice all of this before she recognized the most important thing. He had an arrow fitted to his drawn bow, and it was pointing right at her face. Her mouth dry, she attempted to swallow around the painful lump that had formed in her throat. Instinctively, she went to raise her hands into the air. 

“Ah ah - no.” Said the hunter in common, shaking his head minutely. “Don’t move, girl. Just let me look at you.” 

The scrutiny was uncomfortable, and Min shifted, trying to relieve some of the pressure on her knees. At last, the hunter lowered his bow slightly, shifting so that the arrow was aimed at her chest instead. The wind moaned through the trees, lifting the feathers decorating the mans hair, making them dance. As he looked at her, Min could not help but look back, taking in her first sight of what could only be a Dalish elf. Her eyes were glued almost immediately to his markings, bold lines of gold that framed his brow and cheekbones, contrasting pleasantly with his tanned skin. So entranced was she by what she could only assume was one of the vallaslin that Nola spoke of, that she flinched when he quirked a brow at her, realizing belatedly that her blatant curiosity could possibly be construed as disrespect. It wasn’t hard to force her eyes down, the ingrained habits of a near lifetime of slavery providing a familiar refuge in times of stress. 

Ren raised his other brow now as well, taking silent note of the way the girl hung her head, then rested her hands against her knees. It almost had the look of ritual, the way she stilled so completely, seemingly content to let her fate rest in the hands of a stranger. 

“Garas quenathra?”*

Min blinked. She understood almost nothing of the Elvish language. 

“A… Abelas?”* 

Ren cocked his head to one side. The child bore no vallaslin, but as young as she was that did not necessarily mean that she did not come from another clan. She could be pretending, for all the old hunter knew, feigning ignorance for some unknown reason. A test then. 

“Ar tu na'din, da len.” *

This brought no reaction from her, and Ren held back a sigh. 

“Why are you here, child?

“I...” Min stopped, swallowing again, trying in vain to push the taste of ash from her mouth, “I must speak with Keeper Deshanna of clan Lavellan.”

“That is not what I asked you, da len. I asked why you were here, not what you must do.” 

Eyes still fastened firmly to the ground, Min gave her head a brief shake, braids dancing back and forth with the abrupt motion. 

“I must speak with Keeper Deshanna of clan Lavellan.” 

Another moment passed in silence, and Ren relaxed the draw on his bow, however slightly, though the arrow remained pointed at the girl’s chest. 

“I am within my rights to shoot you, child. I would not even have to give a reason. A stranger, barely a days travel to our camp, perhaps a mage, perhaps even bait. Are there Templars following you, girl?”

A shake of the head was the only response he got. It made him sigh inwardly. Even the Dalish could see where the world was headed - the blight had brought so much chaos to the world, and Kirkwall was turning into a mess, rumors of the Qunari that had just taken up residence running rampant. It was unsure how long they would be there, but the tales were unsettling, and there had been a noticeable increase in the presence of the mercenaries who had left the Qun… Tal Vashoth, he seemed to remember them being named. He could not be sure that this was not a trap, to lead Qunari to the clans camp, or the Templars, or any number of slave raiders, or the puffed up lord of Wycombe, But the hunter just did not have it in him to shoot the girl, kneeling there on the ground, so passive that she’d not yet lifted her eyes to his once again. It was obvious that she was carrying a secret, something that pressed her into silence, something that it seemed she would not speak of to anyone except Deshanna. At last, Ren lowered his bow all the way, unseating and replacing the arrow in his quiver in a smooth, economical motion. The girl did not react. 

“What is your name, da len? And please, look at me when you speak. It’s rude to address your answers to the ground instead of to the one who asked the questions.”

“Min. Numin.” Said the girl, deep blue eyes wandering slowly up to meet his own. 

“Hrm. Min. Well,” said the hunter, squatting down so that he was nearly at eye level with her. “I am Ren. And I will take you to Deshanna, but we can not make it all the way tonight. We will walk for a while, then make camp. I must advise you not to try to run, or to sneak off. If you do, I will catch you, and then you will be marched into our camp bound and gagged. Do you understand, Min?” 

She nodded, paling only slightly in response to the obvious threat. Ren mirrored the action, and rose, offering her his hand. Hesitantly, she took it, and he helped her to her feet. While she marveled at the rough feel of his calloused skin, the hunter took note of the various blisters and cuts marring her own palm and fingers. It became more obvious by the moment that this was no child of the Dalish, and he filed the information away, to take out later and examine at his leisure. With a small amount of reluctance, and ignoring the guilty twinge of sympathy that pricked at him, Ren dropped her hand, gesturing forward. 

“That way, little one. We will walk as far as we can before dusk.” 

______________________________

It quickly became obvious that Min could not walk much farther that day, so after the most tedious 45 minutes of Tal’ren’s life, watching the girl inch and stumble along, he called a halt to their trek, a bare mile from where they’d set out, at a small camp that had been there for time out of mind, tended to lovingly by each Dalish wanderer who used it. Dry wood lay hidden cleverly amidst a thicket, ready to be used, and Ren set about building a fire immediately. Min sank to the ground, weary, one fist rubbing at eyes that burned with the need to close in sleep. Once the fire was crackling merrily, Ren rose in a swift motion, drawing the hood attached to his leather armor up and over his head, and looked at his charge. 

“Don’t let the fire go out.” 

And with that, he was gone, moving to blend in with the forest so perfectly that Min was forced to consider the idea that he was a mage, one who could vanish in the blink of a tired eye. Shaking her head at her own foolish fancies, Min forced herself up, grabbed a piece of wood, and threw it on the fire. 

Tal’Ren had not, in fact, disappeared, nor was he a mage. He simply moved fast when he wanted to, and the animal fur wrapped around his arms and legs helped, breaking up his outline so effectively that when he did stop, he was almost impossible to see against the verdant greens and muted browns of the forest. It was a talent that, like his kinship with animals, had served him and his clan well. A half an hour later he returned, two rabbits hanging from his belt. Min stared at them curiously, hoping that she would not be asked to clean them. She had no idea how to go about it if she was. Much to her relief, Ren had their dinner cleaned and gutted in a minute, speared on long sticks, and set over the fire to cook. She didn’t hesitate when the hunter held one out to her, grabbing and biting in to the too-hot meat with gusto. Of course, she regretted it immediately afterwards, when she had to breathe in through her mouth in a desperate attempt to cool the burning of her tongue. By the time she’d finally gulped down the first mouthful of rabbit the rest of it had cooled just enough for her to pick at it with her fingers. 

Ren attended to his own meal, slicing off pieces of the meat with a deceptively sharp knife he produced from a sheath on his waist. Every so often he would glance over, taking measure of the girl he’d found. She ate quickly, and he had to smile at the way she attacked her meal. It was pleasant to have someone appreciate his camp cooking for once, tucking into it rather than poking and prodding in an attempt to make it seem as though they were eating. When he finished his own rabbit, he pulled an extra cloak from his small pack, holding it out to Min. 

“I don’t use bed rolls, but if you wrap up in this it should keep you warmer.”

She took the cloak with a murmured word of thanks, draping it over her shoulders and pulling it tight around her. Though the fire and the hot food were helping, her insides still felt chilled, and she doubted if she could ever truly be warm again. Tal’Ren watched as she lay back against a log, hood pulled up to shade her face, and drifted slowly off to sleep. 

With idle curiosity he reached over, gently easing the small bag she’d had on her away from her grasp, curious to see its contents. It was almost empty, but at the bottom rested two things, and the older elf pulled them out to examine in the flickering light of the fire. First came a rock, somewhat flat, rounded on one side but with a bit of a sharp edge on the other. A small, wry smile pulled at his lips. No need go guess what that was for. Whatever else the child was, he would lay odds that she was not stupid. The other object he pulled from her bag was another rock, this one small, blue lanced through with streaks of sliver. It had been worn smooth by time, into a shape that somewhat vaguely resembled an animal, and it made Ren smile. Likely, she had picked it up only because she thought it pretty, and the idea of that pleased him. Satisfied, he placed the blue rock (if he’d had to guess, he would’ve thought it some type of Lazurite or Quartz) back in the small sack. After a moment of debate he added the makeshift knife as well. He played with the thought of taking it from her briefly, but the woods could be dangerous, and better she have something to protect herself with. 

“Perhaps, if she proves trustworthy tonight, I can give her a knife in the morning.” He thought. He tried to reason that it would be for her own protection, rather than the desire just to give her something to call her own, but Ren knew better. He never had been very good at lying to himself. 

____________________

The next morning, Tal’Ren watched as the girl awoke. It didn’t happen slowly, as it did with some, rather her eyes opened suddenly, and she sat straight up, then rolled forward so that she was kneeling, hands once again still on her legs, eyes glued to the forest floor. It was the same posture she’d taken yesterday, and the elf wondered curiously what it could mean before speaking to her. 

“Here.” 

The word was gruff, and accompanied by his outstretched hand, holding a broad, flat leaf with a pile of nuts and berries on it. Min blinked, looking up at him slowly, then took the food from him. 

“Eat up while I knock down the fire. You must never leave a fire burning in the woods, da’len, for it can grow on its own, to spread and burn down the whole forest. Always put out your fire before you leave.” 

Ren tried not to think about the fact that he was lecturing her as he would one of the clan’s young hunters, and busied himself with knocking down the smoldering sticks, kicking dirt over them to smother the glowing remnants of last nights fire. By the time he was done Min had finished her breakfast, and stood up, gathering up her small sack and tucking it into the cloth belt that held her breeches up. After a moment’s hesitation she made to take off the cloak Tal’ren had given her, but he waved her off. 

“It was a gift. You will need it. The days here don’t get cold till late in the season, but when they do it happens quickly. Tomorrow it will be even colder, and a week from now ice will cover many of the ponds and streams. And here.” He held out something else. It took her but a moment to realize that it was a small knife, sheathed in leather, and with a small smile she took it, strapping it to her belt opposite the small bag she’d carried all the way from Claudio’s estate. 

“Thank you.” 

The words were soft and unexpected, and Ren spared the girl a glance before smiling. 

“Think nothing of it. Now come, if we move at a steady pace we can make the camp before nightfall.” 

Hours later, after they’d stopped for a brief lunch of dried meat and bitter greens plucked from the ground, Ren slowed down, holding one hand out to the side. Min, mostly silent until now, opened her mouth to question him, but the hunter shook his head roughly, and slid his bow from his back in a practiced motion. The girl subsided, watching in fascination as he drew an arrow and fitted it to the string. She followed the direction of the elder elf’s gaze till she found what he was looking at. There - a definite shape stood out against the chaotic patterns of the forest. Then it moved, the shadows shifting, and resolved into the figure of a wolf, standing, wary, one paw raised from the ground and snout pointed towards the pair of elves, nostrils flaring as it tasted the air. Min suppressed the shudder that tried to roll through her small frame, shrinking back from the predator. Ren, eyes flicking to her briefly, exhaled. 

“Don’t move, da’len.” The words were a breathless whisper as he watched her tremble on the edge of running. 

“Not a step.”

Turning his full attention back to the wolf, he did something that would stick in the child’s mind for years, an image that she would associate with him for the rest of her life. He held his bow, arrow and all, out to one side, spreading his hands wide, and tilted his head in a bow to the wolf. The animal continued to stare for a moment till, with a huff of breath, it turned and trotted away. A moment later Tal’ren straightened, glancing back at the child behind him, her dark blue eyes blown wide with astonishment. 

“Wolves are dangerous, young one. But they are also misunderstood. Respect them, and they should not bother you.” 

She nodded, mute, and they continued their trek. Later, as the light was fading from the forest, they were stopped again, this time by a harsh call that came from somewhere above them. 

“Where does the Dread Wolf walk?”

Ren straightened up, laying a hand on Min’s shoulder, making her stiffen in surprise. 

“Only in our dreams, till the world turns again. Where does Mythal dwell?”

“In the hearts of all the people, lest we forget what came before.” came the response without hesitation. 

A moment later there was a blur of movement, and a figure clad in leather armor and draped in a dark green cloak dropped from a tree in front of them, knees bent to absorb the impact. As the figure straightened, Min could see that it was another elf, tall with the awkwardness of youth, dark hair framing an angular face with piercing blue-green eyes that locked on Min immediately. She almost flinched back from the suspicion in that gaze, especially when she noticed the dagger grasped in the young elf‘s hand, but Ren’s touch on her shoulder held her steady, and she firmed herself, standing straighter and lowering the hood of her borrowed cloak. 

The elf stalked forward on silent feet, cocking his head to one side as he looked at the girl, curiosity now warring with the suspicion in his eyes. 

“What is this?”

“A child, Ethin. One in need of our help.” 

The other elf, Ethin apparently, stared at Ren for a moment longer before sheathing his dagger with an ease born of long practice. A small smile transformed his face from fearsome to welcoming with a suddenness that was shocking, and he strode forward, opening his arms as he neared them. Ren dropped his hand from Min’s shoulder, taking a few short steps till he met Ethin, and enveloped the younger elf in a hug. 

“It is good to see you again, Father. You’re late.” 

The words surprised Min, and she looked at the two in a new light as they broke from their embrace, Ethin’s smile mirroring his fathers as they separated. Ren gazed fondly at his son, resisting the urge to ruffle the boy’s hair only with some effort. He knew that Ethin was getting too old for that type of thing, and instead he contented himself with a doting smile before he stepped back, gesturing Min forward with a wave of his arm. She approached slowly, suddenly very interested in the patterns of grass and leaves on the ground, till at last she stood in front of the pair. 

“Ethin, this is Min. She has come to speak to the Keeper. Min, this is my son, Ethin.” 

Habit took over once again as Min automatically placed her hands flat on her legs, bowing deeply, eyes fastened to the ground between them, the standard greeting she was supposed to give to her Master‘s guests, the very same greeting she‘d given Nola when they had first met. Ethin shot his father a curious glance, a brow raised in inquiry, but a quick shake of Ren’s head told him that his father didn’t know what the posture was about either, and the look in his eyes spoke clearly to the fact that he didn’t like not knowing. Tal’ren’s curiosity at the strange posturing he’d seen in the girl over the last day finally won out, and he touched a gentle hand to her arm. 

“What are you doing, da’len? Why do you bow?” 

“This is how we are to greet people we are introduced to.” She rose from the bow, and her eyes drifted up to Ren’s, worry suddenly darkening her features. “Did…. I do something wrong?” 

Something darkened in the older elf’s eyes before he shook his head, braids and feathers dancing with the motion. 

“Of course not, Min. Now come. Ethin will walk us into camp, won’t he?”

Ethin seemed to debate something for a moment before grinning at her. Just as before, it transformed his face into something welcoming, and Min felt her chilled insides warm just a bit. 

“Of course I will. Come on.” 

He turned, whistling a quick series of notes into the evening air. A reply came floating back from somewhere above, a trill of descending notes that mimicked the call of a bird. With that, they started forward, walking till they reached a hanging tangle of vines covering an opening between the trees that grew thickly in this part of the forest, something that would look natural to all but the trained observer. Min could just barely see the glow of campfire in the rapidly darkening night, reflected from the leaves of trees further ahead. Ethin moved the vines aside gently, and the three stepped through. 

“Welcome camp, Min.” 

She stepped forward, an unexpected smile on her face, hungry for her first view of a Dalish clan.

**Author's Note:**

> * Garas quenathra: "Why are you here?"  
> ** Abelas - Sorry, Sorrow. Used as an apology.  
> *** Ar tu na'din, da'len: "I will kill you, child."


End file.
